


Covered in the Colors

by UisceOneLove



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist!Erik, Canon Disabled Character, Cats, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Charles Xavier is a kitty foster parent, Erik is not amused, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Irene Adler (X-Men)/Raven | Mystique - Freeform, Painter!Erik, The X-Men are basically stray cats, like so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29208219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UisceOneLove/pseuds/UisceOneLove
Summary: All of it started with Hank.By Hank, Erik is referring to the giant Maine Coon that Raven had heaved through their door last year during a friendly game night.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22
Collections: X-Men X-Traordinaire's Cherik Valentine's Day Exchange





	Covered in the Colors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [midrashic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midrashic/gifts).



> Prompt: established relationship + paint + cat
> 
> I...I mean, you mention "cat", and my brain just...you gets cats, all right.

There were things that Erik knew, and loved, about Charles when they first decided to move in together. 

It was already fortunate enough for him to meet someone who could match him intellectually and put up with his mood swings when the muses wouldn't come to him. Charles was better tempered than him, far better. And while Erik didn't particularly like any flashiness of money, he did feel touched when Charles showed him support in his artistic endeavors by buying far better paints and brushes.

And while Erik knew that Charles had a generous heart, he didn't know that he would come to hate the streak of mischief Charles' sister Raven was known for.

All of it started with Hank.

By Hank, he is referring to the giant Maine Coon that Raven had heaved through their door last year during a friendly game night.

"What is that thing?" Alex had asked, eyes wide with awe. The cat (it was the size of a pony, how in the hell did one call it a cat?) was nearly as tall as she was and black enough that the lights made the fur take on a blue hue.

Raven lugged the cat to their couch and promptly let it go. "This fella here was found behind the gallery," she declared. "He looked so sad and lonely that I couldn't just leave him there."

"So you decided to bring it here?" Erik asked, watching with indignance as the thing took up nearly the entire couch and flopped onto its side. Its head ended up in Alex's lap and the young man stared down at it like he was afraid to ruin some precious gift.

"The pound would surely be closed by now, Erik," Charles dismissed, rolling his chair over to their new guest with a bright smile. The thing purrs Charles and Alex elicited from it when they pet it was like hearing the engine of a car turn on.

Erik could see where this was going. He didn't like it.

Erik turned to Raven expectantly. "And you will be taking it with you when you leave?"

Raven met him with a grimace he did not believe, and when she spoke it just confirmed what she had planned. "I would," she answered, "but Irene is allergic, and he's just so much fur that she'd probably have a bad reaction."

She was good. 

Erik would throttle her if he didn't like her so much.

"Well that won't do," Charles spoke up as Alex scratched underneath the thing's chin.

And with a smirk Raven saved just for Erik, that was the beginning of the end of Erik's peace.

* * *

"You're a menace," Erik growled.

Hank blinked up at him, unsympathetic. Erik waved his hand at the cat to get him to move, to no effect. 

When he picked up Hank to move the monstrosity himself, Erik was graced with a heap of hissing and clawing. He cursed up a storm the whole way to the couch where he unceremoniously dumped the fur sack. 

Hank gave him a hiss before lying down as if nothing happened. 

"Damn cat," he muttered under his breath, ignoring the sting as little rivulets of blood started to form in the scratch marks. He went back to inspect the canvas Hank had been on top of and wanted to skin him alive. 

The canvas that he'd spent the last three days priming and beginning the sketch on, was torn and pricked, with a tear running through the big damn indent left by the cat's weight when it turned it into a bed. Erik was going to have to throw it away and start all over. That's lost time that he did not like having to recalculate in his head to make up for it.

"Just give him to Alex," Erik insisted that night as he passed Charles the tuna rolls. Of course, the very possibility of fallen fish left their houseguest enticed and licking his lips. "You know the increased frequency of his visits is because of this one."

Charles tsked and shook his head. "Erik, he is just getting accommodated to being safe here." He used a fork to carefully edge out some of the tuna from one of his rolls and placed the fish next to the furry atrocity, where it smugly lapped it right up. "As much as Alex adores Hank, they can't even take in pets since Sean's incident with the fish tank."

Erik grimaced. Now that it was mentioned, he did recall the incident. Alex had told them all about Sean's screeching that led to the tank shattering and flooding the apartment. 

"Give him a chance, love," Charles requested, reaching over to take Erik's hand. 

Erik sighed. It was hard to say no to Charles. That's why he was stuck in this problem to begin with. That, and Raven's meddling. 

So he relented. "I will try." 

Charles' answering smile was radiant. He pressed a kiss to Erik's hand. "Brilliant."

* * *

Exactly two months later, Hank owned the couch and Erik came home from visiting his mother's grave to find Charles cuddling a matted mess of a cat with long claws and a smushed face.

It growled as soon as it spotted him.

"What." Erik couldn't stop staring at it.

"I've named him Logan," Charles declared, scratching along its back. "I got him from the rescue shelter."

Erik counted to ten in his head before he trudged over to the closet and slipped off his shoes. "Why were you at the shelter?"

Charles shrugged at him innocently, nuzzling Logan's head, and it was just a Big No in Erik's book. "Moira was wanting to look into getting a rescue for her niece."

"And that meant you had to go with her?"

"She wanted a second opinion. Who was I to say no?"

Charles rarely did say no. Again, part of this conundrum.

Erik wasn't in the mood to talk about it this time anyway. "He doesn't get to sleep on the bed," was all he said, cursing in his head all the way up the stairs to their bedroom.

"He won't!" Charles called up after him.

That very night, Logan did indeed sleep with them. Logan slept right between them, and if Erik shifted even just a little bit into Charles' space, he was graced with the lovely feeling of little knives slicing into his skin via claws and fangs. 

If the little shit was going to try and stake a claim on Charles, he was in for a rude awakening. Charles has been Erik's for three years, he wasn't about to lose to a ratty-furred feline.

* * *

Erik lost. 

Not to one cat. Many.

They wouldn't stop coming and Charles wouldn't stop keeping.

The next one was Bobby. Bobby was a quiet Blue Russian that Erik, admittedly, would forget was there. Until he would go to open the refrigerator door and experience five seconds of hair-greying terror when a grey ball of fluff would leap out at him. 

If it was the fridge, they could find Bobby on top of the air conditioning unit or spread out on the coldest portion of the floor. 

After that was the tabby named Jean who always seemed to know when they're coming home since they'd open the door every time to see her sitting primly in front of it, ready for Charles to coo over her.

Pietro and Wanda were Siamese twins that Erik, for the life of him, did not understand  _ why they wouldn't leave him alone _ . It wasn't like he gave them an overabundance of attention or snuck them food. He let them have the extras, sure, and he wasn't quick to knock them away if they jumped up while they watched television, but he wasn't like Charles in the least.

And yet, there they'd be on the outskirts whenever he was working on the next project. Wanda would somehow get ahold of his sharpeners or palette knives while Pietro would burst around in all different directions to check out the next thing Erik was moving. 

"They've claimed you as their father, Erik," Charles teased smugly, watching nearby with a cup of tea.

"I am not--" Erik lunged forward to snatch the cap of his paint tube right as he spotted Wanda preparing to go for it herself. He swiped it with his fingers and picked her up to move her. All he got in return was a tiny face with eyes the shade of cornflower and a squeaky meow like she'd done nothing wrong. 

Erik bit back his grumble and just set her aside. Wanda simply sat where he released her and continued to watch him. Pietro did what he could only describe as a cat's version of a trot over to his sister and started giving her an enthusiastic clean.

When Erik looked back up, Charles stared right back at him with delight.

"Don't say it."

"Oh, love, I won't."

"Don't  _ think _ it either. I can practically hear it when you do."

"Now that I cannot promise."

Erik's hand hovered over his paintbrush. "Can't, or won't, Liebling?" 

"You don't have to hear my thoughts to know the answer to that."

* * *

Kurt was a small black cat that Raven dropped off around June, as Erik was preparing for the next showcase. He was fast like Pietro, except quieter at it. He would suddenly be anywhere in the apartment and was the second creature of the bunch that was good at scaring the living daylights out of Erik.

Erik could see Kurt rubbing against the coffee table and go in to kiss Charles, only to meet the small fuzzy side of the kitten instead. He could spot Kurt sleeping with Charles on the bed like all the others, turn away to grab a fresh change of clothes, and have the black ball trying to climb his leg in the next second. 

Kurt would be the perfect predator with those skills. If not for the fact he was so quick to scare.

Erik may be the one who gets the jolt first but as soon as Kurt realizes there's a surprise at his presence, he leaps up and bolts.

Unexpected noises are also a cause for the kitten to flee.

Neither are very convenient for Erik during his work time.

He's only recently gotten adjusted to the hovering twins when he's painting. Erik can tune them out as long as they're observing. Pietro was the sneaky one who would try to get involved and Erik would have to nudge him away with hand or foot. Wanda would wait until he's distracted to try and steal one of his supplies. 

So Erik would be remiss to say he thought that Kurt was one of the many who were around Charles in the living room area while he was at his easel finishing up his first layer of paint.

_ A Genoshan Skyview _ was the working title of the floating city. The pastel skylines would make the city itself be able to stand out with the hues of purples and greys he planned to incorporate into it. It was meant to be seen as a paradise for the outsiders.

Erik didn't want Hank or Logan to knock into the easel while the base was drying, so he carefully took the canvas over to one of his tables. It was as he was setting his brushes in a jar of cleaner that he knocked his elbow into a leaning stack of canvases nearby.

A bullet of black shot out from behind the stack, making Erik jerk back from the table. "Shit!" he exclaimed, immediately crowding the table as Kurt's panic knocked over everything and anything in his path. 

"Erik?" Charles called out. "What's wrong?"

Scrambling to right everything, Erik stared in dismay at his painting. "Nothing of importance."

Choosing not to explode in anger over the situation, or to focus on it, he followed the minor trail of destruction to the ground and knelt. Kurt was hunkered in the corner beneath his paint cabinet, shaking and staring at him with wide eyes. 

"Come on," he sighed, sliding his fingers only slightly beneath the cabinet, "it's all right, Kurt."

As much as he detested the cats (he will insist on it no matter what looks Charles gives him. And Raven. And Alex, who should not be casting any stones with the way he fawns over Hank.), Erik did not wish to inject undue fear into the creatures. Kurt was such a skittish little thing that the very idea of scaring the kitten made him feel like a complete heel.

So he was patient, and waited, keeping his tone at a soothing level until Kurt was willing to inch closer. 

"That's it," Erik praised. "It was all an accident, I know."

Kurt stopped just out of his reach. He slowly leaned his head forward, sniffing Erik's fingers. At first, he thought the kitten was going to pull away again, so he was pleasantly (begrudgingly) surprised when instead he had a tiny head rub against the fingers. 

Erik carefully began a dance of petting Kurt's cheek with his fingertips and pulling back in gradual spurts to lead him into the open. Once Kurt was completely out from underneath the cabinet, he went ahead and picked him up, cradling the small body in his hands. 

He glanced at his painting once more, his ire fading out quickly as he contemplated it. The paint wasn't ruined with the spill, just warped. But not in an entirely unappealing way. The longer he looked at it, the more a new idea was beginning to form.

Huh.

"Are you sure nothing is wrong?" Charles asked when Erik came over with Kurt. 

"A few knocks is all. It's fine." The younger man shifted around to let Erik sit behind him, content with relaxing against him. Erik settled Kurt on the arm of the couch even though the kitten didn't move much and put an arm around Charles. 

"Your true colors are showing, Erik."

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're on about." 

"You do," Charles replied, nuzzling his shoulder for a moment before opening his book back up, "and I believe it's a good look on you."

"They're cats, Charles, not children."

"Darling, denial is not the look I was talking about."

"If you say that they  _ are _ children or that they're  _ our _ children, I will not be joining you in the bed tonight."

* * *

The next one that didn't get Erik's heart to melt was Scott. 

Alex had found Scott in the engine of his car. He was a tiny, orange thing with a deep red stripe across his eyes. He'd been sick, couldn't open his eyes, and Charles had helped their friend do everything possible to save him.

"I should've taken him to the vet, right?" Alex said, trembling as he watched Charles handle the kitten. He couldn't hold still, and Hank was making an endless figure eight through his legs to brush up against the young man in an attempt to comfort him. Under any other circumstances, Erik would have been amused by it. "I just--I didn't know what to do, so I--"

"It's all right, Alex," Charles soothed, "we can manage as well as the clinic can."

Erik squeezed Charles' shoulder and quickly went to find anything that he could use to help. They'd need to get the oil and grease off of him for sure, so he prepared a bucket of Dawn and warm water.

He told himself it was all for the sake of keeping the kitten alive enough to take it to the vet. 

Together, with Alex preoccupied with a cuddling Hank, he and Charles got the kitten cleaned up and used a needleless syringe to get some fluids into the little one.

"What are the chances that he's going to survive, Charles?" Erik asked in a low voice. The other furry bastards were crowded around to get a view of their new guest. All of them were anxious in their own way, pawing at his feet or Charles' wheelchair. He had to bat some of them down when they were brave enough to jump onto the counter, like Pietro. 

"Don't count him out yet," Charles responded softly. "I think our little friend here is tougher than he looks."

Erik and Charles left Alex on the couch to sleep for the night, Hank stretched out with him, while they took the new kitten upstairs. They kept it by the bed and were both surprised in the morning to find that Logan had taken to guarding it all night. 

Logan guarded Scott every chance he could as they nursed Scott to health. They were lucky, as said by the vet when they took him in, though the malnourishment had left the little one without sight. Like when Charles moved in, Erik took the mantel in proofing the house with things that would help Scott. 

He wasn't going to stand around and make the kitten fend for himself like that. 

They stacked some of their books on the stairs for Scott to have a more gradual movement. Scott memorized the layout himself so they made sure not to move things around too often. Logan liked to help as a guide, and they set up some little bells to jingle when they needed to assist him in his directions. Sometimes they would even see Logan carry him around between his teeth or stop him from getting into the trickier furniture. 

Erik still insisted that he didn't care about the cats. At this point, no one believed him. 

He was starting to give up on it.

The one place that was trickier to sight-proof for Scott was his work area. Like with the other cats, Erik had to accept it as a losing battle since it wasn't as if he had a door to close them out with.

It was a risk to leave his paintings out in the open but there weren't many options for where to let them dry. As long as Charles was around to supervise, Erik was less worried about not being there.

That was another mistake on his part. 

It was ten minutes. Erik had gone down the block for ten minutes to pick up some new brushes that weren't chewed to shit at the handles and some more tea for Charles. 

As soon as he walked through the door, Erik could feel a bubbling sense of resignation build inside of him. 

"Charles," he sighed.

Erik helplessly took in the boundless levels of paw-prints that littered the floor, in his  _ paint _ . It was on the coffee table, the counter-tops, and also all over Charles. Erik found him in the kitchen trying to wash off Scott while an already-damp Logan sat in a huff by his wheel.

Another glance affirmed that three other cats were waiting in the wings for their turn. The fact they were Wanda, Pietro, and Kurt did not shock him.

Charles cast him a harried smile as he wrapped up Scott in a towel to gently scrub him off. "Oh, hello, love!"

Erik set the tea and brushes on the counter before leaning against it and crossing his arms. He could hear Wanda and Pietro crying for his attention and help in being released from their prison. "Did I miss something?"

"It's not as bad as you think," Charles assured, placing Scott on the floor. Scott shook out his fur and started licking at it as soon as he knew he wouldn't be pushed around any further. Logan was right at his side to help like the loyal protector that he was. "Scott had gotten into the paint by accident. Logan tried to get him out of it when the wet paint freaked him out."

"And the others?"

"Couldn't help themselves but to try and play," Charles answered.

Erik gazed down at the remaining perpetrators. Only Kurt had the decency to look ashamed and he wasn't entirely sure how much cats retained the things they did or if they had any sense of what was wrong. Still, he picked the younger one up from the makeshift basket-cage that Charles concocted and set Kurt into the sink for his turn. 

"I'll lock it all up from now on whenever I go. The pain won't be hard to clean up."

Whatever Charles had been waiting for didn't seem to happen. Erik noted a nearly imperceptible shift in his shoulders but didn't comment. 

Erik helped clean the remaining cats, then used a gentle solution to get the paint off of their furniture. 

Then, while Charles took care of corralling the cats out of the way, he went to taking care of the damage to his things. Taking a look at the paw prints and smears that now existed on his canvases, Erik didn't consider it as damage. He picked up each one, slowly gathering a plan like with Kurt's accident. 

He could work with this.

* * *

"These aren't your usual style, Lehnsherr."

Emma studied his submissions with a critical eye, her heels gliding along the floor as if she were skating on ice. She was a professional in every aspect. It's why Erik liked her so much, frankly. 

He opted for shrugging, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited her out. "I had an unusual source of inspiration this time."

"Hm."

Emma inspected each one carefully, eyes sharp as they looked over every detail. Erik did do something different this time. From the paw prints to Kurt's spilled solutions, to Hank's desire to turn his canvases into canopies. He chose to use them as another piece of the design instead of throwing it all out and wasting the perfectly good supplies. 

It pushed him to experiment. Erik didn't turn those away. Hank's divots pushed him to play with perspective and depth which elevated his landscapes of Westchester and Germany. The paws gave more texture to the faces and still life. Erik was pleased by it. 

"All right, Erik," Emma finally says with a simple turn of the heel to look at him. Her mouth curves up slightly, satisfied. "These will work."

They both knew that Emma wasn't going to turn them down. She was his biggest dealer. It was all about the power of suspense with her. 

"See you at the showing then."

"I'll get the word out."

As he headed for the door, and the supportive brunet who was waiting near it, Emma called out to him.

"They're good," she tells him, then walks off to her office.

She does it every time.

"All went well, then?" Charles asked when he was close enough. Erik nodded and was met with that beautiful smile that made his world go 'round. "Brilliant. Shall we celebrate?"

Erik held the door for Charles as he wheeled himself out, making a point of running his eyes over the other man. "What do you have in mind?"

Charles rolled his own eyes, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "We can get to that later. I was referring more to a good dinner."

"I can do dinner," Erik chuckled.

All of Erik's attention moved away from Charles as they were passing by the alley next to the gallery. He slowed to a stop and listened, hoping to catch what grabbed his notice in the first place.

Charles, who had gotten a bit further than him, came back. "Erik?"

He held out a hand for him to wait. There. A faint scrabbling against metal.

Then a whine.

"Oh," Charles murmured, disconcerted. 

Erik stepped into the alley and followed the sounds, knowing what he'd find but resolute to do it anyway. Charles wouldn't let him live it down if he didn't. 

The sounds got louder as he got closer to the dumpster. Whoever was inside must have gotten in to search for food and wound up trapped when the lid was shut. Erik pushed up the heavy lid with minimal effort and was greeted by the sight of not one, but two cats staring up at him.

The bigger one was black and sleek, with white a white patch down its stomach. The other one was half the size of its friend, pale fur, and the brightest green eyes that Erik had ever seen.

He didn't need to look at Charles to know that he couldn't leave them there.

Charles' eyes widened slightly when Erik approached with his hands full that quickly changed to deep fondness.

"Ororo and Lorna," Erik stated, setting Ororo in Charles' lap.

"Well then," Charles responded, petting her with a soothing touch, "do you suppose they'll enjoy Thai for dinner?"

* * *

"You do realize that we are lacking the space to bring in more of these creatures, don't you?" he said one night when they were in bed. Charles laid atop his chest while their legs were surrounded by most of the said creatures. 

Charles hummed in thought before he casually said, "I suppose we should get a bigger place, then."

"We are not getting a bigger place just so you can house an endless supply of cats."

"A studio apartment only feels homely for a short time, Erik," he countered.

As much as Erik did get paid for his work, he wasn't wealthy. He had enough to live comfortably and put a little bit back to build an emergency fund. Painters didn't reach "wealth" status until they were dead. 

He could maybe afford a small house. Do the work himself to make the accessibility easier for Charles.

He didn't find himself opposed to it. Not completely.

Except the part for it to be for the convenience of Charles fostering more pets. 

Before he could speak about it, Charles pushed up on his arms to look down at him. Erik was always mesmerized by his eyes, how piercing and deep they could be. So full of a caring life. He could see Charles' soul and wanted to merge with it.

"You know I have the money to help with anything we need," Charles told him. "As much as you don't like it. We are in this together, I will not let you pay for everything."

He kissed away Erik's protests. Erik was inclined to let him.

"Perhaps, if we settle well into a house, we might consider another step or two in our relationship."

Erik could feel his heart beat faster. "Is that so?"

"This is our family," Charles replied, "and I wouldn't be opposed to a future where it's not just kittens that count as our young ones."

Erik slowly smiled up at the brunet, his fingers sinking loosely into Charles' soft hair. "I might not be opposed to that future, either."

He pushed up and kissed the man, sinking into the welcoming feeling of safety that came with Charles in his life.

* * *

Alex was supposed to be better at watching the cats than Charles.

And yet, Erik and Charles come into their new place with some of their boxes to the sound of the boy in a panic. 

"Get back here! Wait! Pietro!"

"I believe we forgot to leave proper supervision," Charles said as they hurried to see the damage.

"I--"

"Don't say that you told me so."

Well, he did.

Erik couldn't refrain from grimacing when they reached the back room. He regretted opening the door. "Not again," he sighed.

Alex was sprawled on the tarp-covered floor, surrounded by a knocked over paint can and a hoard of cats that were decorating the tarp with paint-covered paws.

Erik was experiencing a strong sense of deja vu.

Alex looked up at them, relieved, and he watched it quickly change to guilt.

"My bad, guys," Alex told them. 

Erik had to yank up Pietro before the cat could zoom on past and get paint on the carpet. 

"It seems it's an easy mistake to make, Alex," Erik told him calmly. 

"I'll clean it up," he promised."I can get Darwin and Sean to help."

"Don't you worry," Charles replied, "mistakes often happen. It's only a tarp, no damage to be concerned about." 

Erik left Charles to do the consoling, Pietro squirming in his hold and therefore getting Erik's turtleneck littered with  _ Serenity Green _ paw prints. 

This was his life. There was no taking it back. 

Even cats can be artists, it seemed.


End file.
